


Just a Scratch

by TuppingLiberty



Series: Tlib FFC 2020 - original works [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Cowboys, Doctors, February Ficlet Challenge, February Ficlet Challenge 2020, First Kiss, Frontier Doctors, Frontier Wyoming, Hand Jobs, M/M, Probably Post-Civil War?, Reunion, Reunion Sex, Stitching, Western, wyoming - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: Jared's woken in the middle of the night by a patient in need of help. The patient just so happens to be Oliver "Black Mac" MacDougal, local grump and current subject of Jared's most ardent, secret affections.FFC Day 5: Western AU OR "scratch"After Oliver spends a long time away, Jared gives him an enthusiastic reunion.FFC Day 6: LaughterJared heads to Oliver's to answer his proposal.FFC Day 12: making your own traditions
Relationships: Jared/Oliver "Black Mac" MacDougal, OMC/OMC
Series: Tlib FFC 2020 - original works [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620334
Comments: 25
Kudos: 47
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2020





	1. Chapter 1

Jared’s woken from a most pleasant dream involving an unlimited afternoon in the royal library studying anatomical manuscripts by a thunderous knocking on his door, and he can’t help but scowl into the darkness. 

“Doc!” A muffled voice yells through the door, and Jared swings his feet out of the small cot he’s got shoved to one wall. 

“I’ll be right there,” he says back, and the knocking quiets, which means the patient heard him. He pulls his night robe from the hook and slips the delicate silver wires of his glasses over his ears. 

He’s somehow not surprised to see Oliver MacDougal - Black Mac, as he’s known around these parts, for his coal-dark hair and often darker mood - leaning against his door jamb, one hand pressed against his side over an obvious blood stain. 

“What’s happened, Oliver?” 

It’s easy to ignore the scowl on Black Mac’s face over the use of his Christian name. Oliver may have made Jared nervous back when he'd first moved from England, but it’s been a long time since Jared’s been intimidated by the man who’s more bluster than actual meanness. 

“Got a scratch down at the saloon. Mary Lou made me come see you.” 

“Just a scratch, hmm?” Jared opens the door wider and gestures him in. “Up on the table with you, then.” 

Oliver walks in with an easy, confident stride, his sturdy work boots making Jared’s floor creak. Even with the larger man sitting on the kitchen table, Oliver still makes the small room he’s renting from the town’s mayor, Jack, seem like a monk’s cell. His presence is fairly overwhelming, though not from intimidation. Jared steadies himself by going to his small desk for his medical kit and fetching what he needs. He grabs the oil lamp by his bed and brings it over to the table as well. 

Oliver hisses when Jared pries his bloody fingers away from the wound and pulls his torn shirt back to get a better look. It’s still bleeding, but sluggishly, a clean, deep slice just under Oliver’s rib cage.

“Just a scratch, hmm? Another inch deeper and they’d’ve been dropping you off at the cemetery instead.” 

Oliver’s lips twitch, but he says nothing. 

“I’m going to have to stitch it up.” 

“Do what you have to,” the larger man replies with a shrug. 

They lapse into a companionable silence as Jared works, cleaning the wound - he prays to God whichever knife did it had been wiped recently - and preparing his stitching kit. “And who exactly decided they needed to stab you?” 

This time, Oliver does actually smile, though it’s bright and fierce. “Some kid passing through thought he could skimp Mary Lou for her services.” 

“And you actually let him ‘scratch’ you? I’m surprised.” Jared moves back to his desk, pouring several fingers of whiskey into a tin cup and bringing it to Oliver. “This will help.” 

“Can’t argue with you there.” Oliver knocks back a heavy swallow before he leans back on one hand to give Jared the best working space. “The kid had a friend who caught me by surprise, up until Mary Lou beaned him over the head with an empty bottle.” 

“And are these men still alive, or am I to expect the marshal at my door, hot on your tail?” 

“We left ‘em breathing, but Mary Lou started fussing about my scratch.” 

Jared sends his eyes heavenward briefly before returning to his task. At the first poke of his needle, Oliver doesn’t even flinch. “I’m sure she’ll compensate you handsomely.” 

Oliver shrugs, staying silent, and Jared looks up at him, over the exposed planes of his chest and up to his placid face, a study in nonchalance. Oliver glances down, catching Jared looking, and actually winks, the bastard. 

For too long, Oliver MacDougal has tugged at Jared’s heart. When he’d moved to the wilds of Wyoming, deep in the foothills of the Rockies, he’d never expected that his ‘unnatural’ feelings would be tempted. Especially not by this rough and tumble cowboy with a rugged black beard and hair that needs trimming and face generally creased with dust and dirt.

And while Jared has read enough of the ancient Greeks not to feel ashamed of his feelings, he also knows he has to hide them, but oh, Oliver is tempting. 

Forcing himself to concentrate on the wound he’s stitching and not the lines of Oliver’s abdominal muscles is a task in an of itself; if he’d been allowed, he would have moved over Oliver’s body, naming every nook and cranny just as the anatomical manuscripts had laid them out. Instead, he finishes the neat row of stitches and ties off the final suture. 

Bandaging the wound, though, means that Jared has to run his hands over Oliver’s smooth skin as he wraps the gauze around Oliver’s waist. He feels Oliver hold his breath, and he’s not sure what that means. 

“You must keep it clean. Try not to get it wet, if possible, and change the dressing daily. If you see any signs of a poison in the blood, you must come see me as quickly as possible, but otherwise, you should be able to remove the stitches by Tuesday.” 

Oliver nods, concluding the whole business, so Jared turns away to clean his supplies up, his hands moving rapidly against the impropriety of his thoughts and his nerves around the other man. 

Suddenly, Oliver’s hand covers his as he puts away the scissors, and Jared looks up, frozen. “Yes?” 

Oliver’s hand travels up his arm, over his shoulder, to cup his cheek. He rubs over the rough shadow on Jared’s skin - he tries to shave every morning, but his razor needs sharpening. “What Mary Lou has to offer...it's not what I really want, you know.” 

Jared flushes, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Oliver’s. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, wallowing in denial. 

Oliver slides off the table to stand before Jared, highlighting their size difference. “I think you do.” 

“I-” Jared licks his lips, a movement that Oliver’s eyes track with interest. “Maybe.” 

Oliver gives Jared the tiniest smile, and looks around his one-room office and home. “Do you plan to continue to rent?” 

“Jack’s talked of building a clinic and attached apartment for the town doctor, whomever it may be. I’d imagine that means me, should you all continue to approve of me.” 

“Sensible. And I can hardly see anyone objecting to the Royal Doc.” Oliver’s thumb playing over his cheek is the height of distraction, but Jared still manages to blush at the nickname. “It’s crowded here in town though.” 

“There’s barely a hundred regular residents. London has-” 

“Crowded,” Oliver insists. “Out at my place, there’s enough room for a man to be himself.” He steps closer, his face hovering just before Jared’s. “For a man to be himself with someone else, too.” 

Jared’s taking in a breath when Oliver presses their lips together, and he chokes on it, gasping and driving Oliver back in the commotion. “I’m sorry, no, don’t go-” Jared murmurs, pulling Oliver back to him and leaning into the kiss again. 

Oliver growls against his lips, moving his head to deepen the kiss. Jared can taste the swirl of whiskey on Oliver’s tongue, strong enough that he fancies himself intoxicated. Oliver wraps his arm around Jared’s back and moves him closer, and it feels like heaven up until Jared accidentally brushes over Oliver’s bandage and he hisses against Jared’s lips. 

“Oh dear. I’m so sorry, did I rip the stitches? Should I check?” Jared pulls away, already starting to work the end of the bandage when Oliver’s hands stop his own. 

“It’s fine. Just tender.” 

“Some medical professional I am, injuring my own patient.” 

“You patched me up right, Doc. I’ll be fine.” 

Jared blushes, looking to the floor. “You’re welcome to call me by my Christian name, Oliver.” 

Oliver’s fingers slide into his hair, and he tugs a little, drawing Jared back to his mouth. “I see you’ve had no problems taking that liberty for yourself.” 

“I’m not calling you Black Mac,” Jared replies with a roll of his eyes. 

“No, I’ve never intimidated you, have I? Why is that?” 

Jared lets his eyes linger over Oliver’s bare chest, the broad expanse of warm skin over strong, hard working muscles. “Because I was too busy admiring you to be intimidated by bluster.” 

“I’ll show you bluster,” Oliver growls. 

Jared’s small laugh is muffled by Oliver’s lips. But before Jared can initiate another kiss, Oliver has pulled away from him, going to pick his shirt up from the floor for cleaning and mending.

“Try to remember your opponent’s backup the next time you have to defend Mary Lou’s honor, please,” Jared murmurs as they both head to the door. 

Oliver pauses just before opening it, kissing Jared a final time - just for now, hopefully. “Let me know ‘bout that offer when you can.” 

Jared opens the door again, pulling his night robe more tightly around him as the chilly night air creeps in. The thought of slipping into Oliver’s bed and burrowing himself into Oliver’s heat makes Jared shiver for an altogether different reason. He meets Oliver’s eyes, and feels like Oliver knows exactly what he’s thinking. 

“I will,” Jared promises, shutting the door on Oliver’s retreating figure. 

As he settles back into bed, he can’t help but think that his dreams may be much more than pleasant now.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Oliver spends a long time away, Jared gives him an enthusiastic reunion.  
> FFC Day 6: Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will edit in the morning! Just posting so I don't get even further behind in FFC. :D

It’s the dogs that alert him. Of course that’s by design when Oliver’s off their land and Jared’s home alone. Jared pulls the shotgun down from the shelf by the door, just in case, and walks out the door of their cabin. His hound Leo, or, at least, the hound most attached to him - Oliver says Jared’s too kind to him, letting him sleep in the bed for warmth when Oliver’s away - trots up to him, tongue lolling, and stands protectively by his side. 

But it’s easy to make out the lone figure riding down their lane on horseback, and Jared’s heart flutters. “Papa’s back, hmm, Leo?” He reaches down to give the dog a scratch, and leans the shotgun up against their cabin wall. 

As he steps down the front stairs, preparing to meet Oliver halfway, he can’t help but feel his lips tip up into a broad smile for the first time in a month. Sure, Mary Lou and Jack and Louis in town have kept him entertained, but nothing heals his heart quite like watching his man come back to him. 

He reaches up to take Oliver’s bags, but he ends up with an armful of Oliver instead, his broad body pressing against Jared’s, smelling like the trail. 

“What word from Denver?” Jared whispers into his neck, rubbing his cheek against the black roughness of Oliver’s beard. 

“The papers are in my bag,” Oliver grunts, nodding toward them, but Jared shakes his head. 

“I can get them later. Stay with me now, shhh.” He holds onto Oliver for another long moment before pulling back to begin his inspection. At Oliver’s battered knuckles, he tsks. “And who was it this time?” 

Oliver gives him the barest glimmer of a smile when Jared kisses the inside of his palm. “Someone who needed hitting.” 

“Yes, that always seems to be the case, doesn’t it? But then you kept on riding, didn’t you?” Jared shakes his head. “You’ll be sitting down to let me clean that as soon as you’ve settled Susie in for a rest.” 

“Got it, Doc.” But Oliver doesn’t turn, just cups Jared’s cheek and leans in for a soft kiss. 

The feeling of his lover’s lips has Jared sighing and melting into him, even as the dogs prance around and the horse snorts. Oliver’s hand rests at the small of his back, pressing him closer, and Jared starts to work his large leather overcoat open to feel the man beneath. 

“Mmph.” Oliver catches his hand, pulling back a little. “I need to visit the creek before you do any of that.”

Jared shivers involuntarily. “I could...join you?” 

Oliver quirks one of his brows, holding Jared at arm’s length. He looks interested, intrigued even, and Jared does his best to look stoic. Even in the bright of day, the creek will be entirely too cold for him. Oliver gives it another moment before he snorts, shaking his head. “No need to play the sacrificial lamb, Doc. I’ll be back soon.” 

Jared’s cheeks are still bright with embarrassment when Oliver kisses him and saunters away. 

Jared’s halfway through making lunch for the both of them when Oliver slips back inside, smelling of the icy mountain water in the stream. The creek only tempts Jared at the height of summer, or when he doesn’t want Oliver to fuss with bringing him water to warm in the cabin. Oliver wraps his arms around Jared’s waist, his chin coming to rest on Jared’s head as Jared finishes browning sausages to go with the bread he’d made yesterday. 

_I missed you,_ Oliver’s movements whisper, and Jared whispers back by letting his body lean against Oliver’s. ‘Black Mac’ would never say the words aloud, but Jared can feel them just as surely as if Oliver has traced them over his skin. “Smells good,” the larger man rumbles, his chest vibrating against Jared’s back. 

“I could say the same.” 

Oliver gives his little snort, the one that makes Jared’s heart flip over in its simple enjoyment of life. So few parts of Oliver’s life had been easy, from his upbringing in the backwoods of Illinois, to his enlistment in Union forces at the tender age of sixteen. He’d seen far too much too young, Jared knows. So maybe Jared takes every chance he can to get Oliver to laugh, just a little. 

Oliver dips down, his lips lingering over Jared’s neck even as Jared scoops the browned sausages onto tin plates. It makes gooseflesh rise on Jared’s arms, and he wants to pull Oliver back to their bed and spend the rest of the day there, but there’s business to take care of, and his man to feed. 

Still, a few minutes later, Oliver pauses in slathering a generous amount of butter over the bread. “I brought you something.” 

“Yes, the papers,” Jared murmurs, closing his eyes to savor his own bread and blackberry jam. “I’m interested in seeing President Grant’s address to the Union. I do wonder if he’ll take the reformers into account.” 

“Grant’s a good commander,” Oliver says automatically, as if it settles the question. Jared supposes that for Oliver, it does. 

“Just so.” Jared reaches under the table to squeeze Oliver’s knee. “Thank you for transporting the newspapers. They are so dear to me.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Oliver pulls over one of his saddle bags, rummaging through it. He gives the contents a small grin when he apparently finds what he needs, and hands Jared a small cloth-wrapped package. 

Jared turns the heavy package over in his hands, his fingers automatically finding the ribbon - a bit worse for wear after at least a week in Oliver’s saddle bag - to open it. “May I now?” 

Oliver’s eyes are expectant, and maybe a tad nervous, when he nods his assent, so Jared decides to open the package quickly. 

His breath catches in his throat as he pushes the fabric away. Nestled inside, tenderly carried to him, is a pristine edition of _Anatomy of The Human Body,_ by Henry Gray, Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons. 

He’d met Gray once in the hallowed halls of St. George’s. He’d observed Gray’s work with a cadaver, and felt the stirring in his soul that told him he’d found his purpose. He’d had to leave his own copy of _Anatomy_ in London when he’d left. It hadn’t made a bit of sense to carry the heavy book with him. 

He lets out a sigh as he opens to a random page and admires the beautifully rendered plate of the muscles and bones in the human hand. He traces over the phalanges and smiles. “You must have spent a great deal of time and money acquiring this for me. I’ve written to so many colleagues who haven’t been able to help…” 

“I know,” Oliver offers, his lips quirking. “I’ve delivered your letters to the post office myself.” 

Jared looks up from the book, meeting Oliver’s eyes. _I love you,_ Jared can hear as clear as day, even if Oliver’s never said the words. “I will cherish this for the rest of my life, Oliver. You’ve no idea.” 

Oliver leans over to cup his cheek, then pulls Jared to him for a gentle kiss. 

“It must have been very dear...you didn’t spend the whole season’s profit on me, did you?” 

“Lawrence’ll be along tomorrow with the wagon. We’ve got seed, and feed enough for the year, the necessities, the medical supplies you asked for.” Oliver’s thumbs plays over his cheekbone. “This is just for you.” 

“Did you get yourself something, too?” 

“There’s a reason I pushed and raced to make it before Lawrence, you know.” 

Heat curls through Jared as he grins. “Oh?” 

“I’ve been thinking about our private reunion.” Oliver’s hand covers the one Jared left on his knee, drawing Jared’s touch up to where Oliver bulges underneath his clothes. “I’ve been hard for you for days.” 

“How awkward for Lawrence,” Jared murmurs, taking control of his own fingers and stroking over Oliver’s length slowly. “This is all you wanted, hmm? A reward for the book?” 

“I want everything,” Oliver replies with a growl, setting the book on the table and pulling Jared into his lap. 

Their lips crash together, the long weeks apart driving their desperation. This first time will be quick, Jared knows from experience. He’s had nothing but his own fingers, his own hand, and Oliver just the same. They need each other now, hot and dirty and fast, and maybe later again, more slowly, more tender. 

There’s nothing tender now about the way Oliver’s lips bruise his in the kiss, about the way Oliver’s hand has slipped down to squeeze Jared’s ass through his pants. It feels delicious, the desire licking up inside Jared like flames. There’s no way he’ll be able to douse it, nor any reason to. 

As Oliver’s hands are occupied, Jared takes it upon himself to pull them out, nudging them together and wrapping his hand around both. Precum slides along their shafts as he strokes them at once, and with Oliver’s mouth covering his, he can only drown his groans against Oliver’s lips. 

Jared rolls his hips at Oliver’s encouragement, and they race each other to the peak that comes all too quickly. With a punched shout, Jared buries his face in Oliver’s shoulder and comes between them, stars flickering in his eyelids and pleasure pulsing through his veins. Oliver’s only a stroke behind; the moment he feels Jared’s cum he twitches through his own release. Jared brings his hand up, licking at his fingers as Oliver watches, his eyes dark. 

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Jared whispers, nudging forward for another sweet kiss. 

Oliver’s hand is still cupping his cheek, and he uses it to guide Jared more deeply into the kiss. “I’ll always come back to you.” 

There are a dozen things Jared will never have, because he just happens to be a man who loves a man, but those words make every loss worth it. Sighing, Jared wraps his arms around Oliver’s neck and leans into his body, letting his eyes drift shut for just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really really liked Oliver and Jared, and I might have to write their story, or their story told as breaks between a more modern romance (like the book going back and forth between the two timelines.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Making your own traditions. 
> 
> It's the story of Jared and Oliver's first time together, as such, it happens between chapters 1 and 2.

“Have you ever ridden a horse, Dr. Kent?” The town’s mayor, Jack, is looking at him with well-deserved skepticism. Since arriving months ago, Jared has stayed close to the tiny town, and he’d come in Jack’s wagon, so Jack has every right to ask. Still, Jared's been riding ever since he could seat a horse, so he feels a little indignant at the question.  


“Are you offering to give me a ride?” Jared arches his brow at Jack as he smooths over Maggie’s warm brown flank. 

The way Jack swallows is enough answer for Jared. Few men, no matter how brave they are to live out here, have enough courage to ride up on Black Mac’s land unannounced and unaccompanied. 

Jared has a feeling that even fewer men have felt Black Mac’s strong body against their own, or the way his lips are tender despite his scruffy beard. And so, Jared thinks, he rather has a shot. Or, a chance at not getting shot on sight. 

“He’s likely taken out the stitches himself, you know.” 

“You hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do it. No one’s seen MacDougall in a few days. I’m just going to make sure that that’s not because he’s out in his shack dying of fever.” Hefting himself up into the saddle, he refamiliarizes himself with the feeling of being astride a horse. “Would you help me with my bag?” 

Working together, he and Jack get his medical supplies loaded onto the horse as well. When Jack still looks at him with apprehension, though, Jared can’t help but defend Oliver. “The town needs him, you know. A man with his reputation means the drifters and bandits leave us alone for the most part.” 

Jack scowls at the dirt. “It means families and law-abiding folk leave us alone, too.” 

“Maybe you should hire MacDougall as your sheriff, then. Make it legal for him to teach a lesson or two down at the saloon.”

“Black Mac would never agree to it,” Jack mumbles. 

Jared shrugs. “You won’t know unless you ask. I’ll see you in a couple of days, Mayor, or maybe less. If there’s an emergency, you know where to find me.” 

Before Jack can protest further, Jared’s walking Maggie out of the barn and down the dusty Main Street. Calling it a street is somewhat an exaggeration on Jack’s part, but the mayor does like to put on airs. He sees a great future for their little hamlet. As Jared settles into his ride, his eyes scanning the horizon for threats as much as lingering on the beautiful snow-capped peaks, he can’t help but agree. 

It’s a little slice of heaven, right here, and it’s only a matter of time before more people realize that. Just last month, the Johansens had staked a claim out by Mayberry Creek, and most of the town is abuzz with the fact that Ingrid Johansen is pregnant with what may be the town’s first child resident. Women and children herald civilization, or so Jack has said many a time over a drink at the saloon. 

Not that either women or children have been much of a consideration in Jared’s life. He’d long ago decided that he’s not going to play the game of life the way his parents wanted him to, the way the men who'd come before him, who'd had the same passions, must have done. He’s not going to marry some poor woman he can’t love, let alone make babies with. 

He doesn’t want to linger on such thoughts, not when he’s trotting ever closer to the man who’s graced his dreams every night for months, so he sings to pass the time. He’s in the middle of a rather ribald drinking song when he catches the glint of metal, and then Oliver’s emerging from behind a tree, shotgun raised. As soon as he sees that it’s Jared, though, he lowers the weapon, looking annoyed as Jared brings Maggie to a halt. 

“You’re making enough noise to alarm anyone for three counties, Doc.” 

“I had thought that announcing my presence may be the safest route, considering your skills.” 

Oliver watches Jared look down at his shotgun, his lips tipping up just slightly, and only for a second. “You make a fair point. And what exactly brings you to my land?” 

The knowledge of how they left things a week ago is burning through Jared’s veins, making him almost vibrate; he can see the same flames reflected in Oliver’s eyes. “I came to check your wound.” 

Oliver hums in acknowledgement before turning to raise two fingers to his mouth and give a sharp whistle. It’s not long before Jared can hear the hoof beats of his beautiful black gelding, and then Oliver’s mounted beside him, a small smile on his lips as he leads them in the direction of his home. 

Oliver dismounts smoothly and stands by Jared, arms outstretched, as if he’s going to help Jared down. “As your doctor, I have to protest. Your stitches...” 

But when he dismounts, Oliver’s hands come to his hips and help him the rest of the way anyway. They linger there, Oliver holding Jared against him, staring into each other’s eyes, until Maggie gives a snort and Jared jolts. Still, through some unspoken directive they hasten through removing the saddles and getting Maggie and Oliver’s Ulysses settled in with food and water. 

“Did you really come to look at my stitches?” Oliver asks when they’re done and walking toward his small shack - though it’s really more of a cabin, if Jared’s being fair. 

“I- well. Yes, I came to do that. I also came to see if you were serious about your offer.” Jared nods at the cabin. “You’d truly want me to live with you, in such close quarters?” 

Oliver’s lips twitch up again. “You have such a way of saying things, did you know that? I could always build you your own room if you want. Offer still stands, though.” 

Jared lets his fingers play over the rough wood of the cabin. “Still, it seems a big step. How could you possibly know that I’m not a nightmare to live with?” 

“No bigger a step than Frankie getting a bride to come here through letters. Some people don’t have the luxury of courtin’. We certainly don’t. And since I can’t exactly take you to Jack and ask him to marry us, I guess I figured I’d offer the next best thing. Our own way.” 

“A new tradition,” Jared murmurs, reaching out and grasping Oliver’s hips. 

Oliver nods. “As you like.” 

“But how’d you know…?”

Oliver’s hand cups his chin, tipping it up, preparing Jared for a kiss that he stops inches before initiating. “I could see it in your eyes. Could feel the thought of you building up inside me until it felt like I was going to do something stupid like kiss you in your office where anyone could have walked in on us.” 

“No one’s walking in on us now,” Jared murmurs. “We-” 

The rest is drowned by the press of Oliver’s lips to his. It’s just as magical as before, igniting that fire in his blood he feels whenever he’s near Oliver. He moans, pressing his body against Oliver’s, standing up on his toes to wrap his arms around Oliver’s neck and pull him closer. He doesn’t even realize Oliver’s walking him backwards until he pushes Jared up against the side of the cabin, bracing himself on the wood as he plunders Jared’s mouth. 

Jared slides his hand into Oliver’s hair and holds him closely, like he can’t get enough of the larger man. Truly, he can’t. He could drown in Oliver and still not be sated, he feels. 

Maybe they are making their own traditions. Marriage and children make neither of them more worthy, more ‘civilized’ than anyone else. But this, this makes them absolutely and irrefutably human. 

Oliver’s hands slide down to cup his ass, lifting him up a little, and Jared has to break the kiss off with a protest. “Your stitches-” he pants. 

“They’re fine.” 

“I’m sure they’re not  _ fine.”  _

“Doc, they’re fine.” But Oliver gets that small smile that means trouble will follow soon after. “But if you want to check them…” He pulls back, slipping out of his suspenders and pulling his dirty work shirt over his head. 

Jared’s heart beats in his throat. Oliver shirtless by lamplight in his apartment is one thing; Oliver naked from the waist up for just God and Jared to see is...literally breathtaking. 

Oliver’s eyes heat at what must be the pure appreciation in Jared’s gaze. Tentatively, Jared reaches out, fingers brushing over the sun-warmed skin stretching over honed muscles. He quickly finds the stab wound, pleased to see that it’s successfully healing with no trace of a poisoning of the blood. 

“You’re healing nicely,” he tries to say in a professional voice. It’s harder when his cock is pushing against his trousers and his fingers are still lingering on Oliver’s flat stomach. 

He can’t meet Oliver’s eyes because he's embarrassed at how much desire he has, so he traces over Oliver’s skin, finding other imperfections here and there. His scars tell a story, one Jared’s dying to ask about later. For now, he maps Oliver’s body like he’d been longing to do a week ago in his apartment, running his fingers through the whorls of black hair covering his pectorals. 

“This ain’t exactly fair, Doc,” Oliver whispers, his lips brushing over Jared’s hair. He begins to pull Jared’s shirt from his trousers, and suddenly Jared wants nothing more than to bare himself to Oliver for judgement too. At least if he’s found wanting, he’ll know now, before he can get too deep. 

He helps Oliver with the buttons, tossing his shirt onto the wooden bench adorning the tiny porch of the cabin. He knows he’s skinny and pale, so his heart flutters as Oliver takes him in for the first time. He can hardly look up to meet Oliver’s eyes; he probably wouldn’t have, if Oliver hadn’t chosen to cup his chin and tip it up again. 

Jared’s breath expels in a thankful whoosh, because Oliver doesn’t look disappointed. Oliver looks, without a doubt, as if he’d like to devour Jared whole. 

Jared is fairly sure he’d be a happy sacrifice. 

“If we were courting, I’d bring you something. Flowers, maybe,” Oliver murmurs, pulling Jared against him once more. 

“You’ve spent the last few months I’ve been here either growling at me or giving me wounds to heal. What’s that if not courting?” Jared grins, feeling playful as he circles his arms around Oliver’s waist. 

Oliver matches the grin, his fingers tracing through the fine hairs on Jared’s belly. “Then...would it be appropriate to ask you to my bed now?” 

“Better there than against this wall.” 

Oliver smiles broadly now, taking Jared’s hand and leading him inside. Truly, the space is small, as if the large bed is a recent addition. The frame is obviously from fresh rough-hewn wood, much like the walls of the cabin itself, and Jared knows immediately that Oliver built it. 

Possibly thinking of bedding  _ him _ the entire time.

The thought makes Jared’s heart beat wildly, and he goes without protest when Oliver pulls him onto the bed. 

“Have you ever...with a man?” Oliver asks as he covers Jared’s body with his own. 

Jared hesitates, Edward’s image floating unwillingly through his brain. “There was a boy at Eton. We couldn’t do much for fear of getting caught, but we...managed to do a little. You?” 

Oliver doesn’t answer, just presses his lips against Jared’s throat, where his heart is beating wildly. It makes Jared breathless and distracted, and he doesn’t press for a return to the question, especially when Oliver keeps going, licking over one of his pebbled nipples before taking it delicately between the teeth. 

_ Edward never did  _ that, Jared thinks wildly. He gasps, his cock straining against his pants, seeking friction. Oliver just smiles and continues his torture before moving further down Jared’s chest. When he reaches Jared’s stomach, he pauses long enough to work the buttons of his fly quickly before pushing his pants and undergarments completely down over his hips. Jared’s first instinct is to cover up, but he relaxes when Oliver looks only appreciative. 

Still, it’s extremely hard not to climax immediately when Oliver slips his lips around the head of Jared’s cock. He can feel his cock pulse with want, Oliver’s tongue rolling over the place where he’s dripping freely. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he grips them into the sheets, feeling the softness of wool against the poke of the hay used to give the mattress structure. It’s a good, grounding feeling, helping him hold off his orgasm when every move Oliver performs makes Jared want to explode. 

He’d known, when he’d packed up this morning, that this may happen, if Oliver’s invitation had been true. He’d come prepared in his mind and heart for this eventuality. And yet now, feeling Oliver’s tongue, looking down and seeing Black Mac's head bob on his cock, his lips spread obscenely around the shaft - he can’t quite believe it. 

Oliver pulls off right before Jared feels like he’s going to come. Jared sags against the mattress, his chest heaving. “What- why’d you stop?” he slurs, his body buzzing, his mind fuzzy. 

Oliver just smiles, popping his own finger into his mouth. Jared’s confused, right up until Oliver’s pressing the digit against his asshole, and then he stiffens in shock. 

“What-” 

“This not in your training, Doc?” But Oliver pulls back, his fingers wet on the inside of Jared’s thigh. “Feels good, I promise.” 

“It’s...no, it wasn’t. Not for pleasure, certainly. There are certain ailments that require such an examination, but I've never _received_ one.” Jared feels like his cheeks are on fire, but they match the rest of him if they are. But his curiosity overcomes his embarrassment. “Please, go ahead.” 

Oliver strokes his trembling thigh approvingly. “Just relax.” 

Jared does his best to follow Oliver’s directive, and it’s certainly easier when Oliver wraps his lips around his cock again. He closes his eyes, willing himself to unclench his muscles and breathe even as Oliver’s tongue works its magic. 

When Oliver begins probing again, Jared does his best not to tighten up, though he doesn’t quite succeed. He can feel Oliver’s patience though, slowly working at his rim to loosen him. He manages to slip his wet finger inside, breaching Jared’s hole, the first time anyone has ever done so. Some feeling flutters through Jared’s stomach, like a multiplication of the pleasure Oliver’s giving his cock. He presses his hips down, trying to push Oliver in further. 

Oliver pops off his cock, which makes Jared’s eyes flash open, but Oliver’s grinning up at him. “Just like that,” he whispers, pushing his finger in more, working at Jared’s tight rim. 

“This...is most strange,” Jared manages, adjusting to Oliver’s finger more easily than he thought he would. 

Oliver pauses, his finger still inside, and reaches for something beside the bed. It’s some type of oil, Jared surmises, because he rubs it around Jared’s rim and inside, and suddenly the slide is so much easier. 

“Oh-” Jared breathes out when Oliver starts working another finger inside. “Oh my-”

Oliver’s grin is wolfish, and Jared suddenly wants very much to kiss him, to pull him up here, but that would mean giving up the pleasure happening down there, and that’s not something he’s willing to do right now. 

And then, Oliver swipes over something inside him, something he’s going to immediately go and investigate in his anatomy book once his brain stops leaking from his ears, and pleasure shoots through him. His cock pulses again, weeping precum down the shaft that Oliver greedily sucks up. The combination of Oliver pressing that spot again and taking his cock sends Jared over the edge, tumbling into orgasm. 

Oliver swallows everything, he thinks, but he’s not sure because he’s still riding the waves of his climax, and Oliver’s still pressing at that place inside him. With half-lidded eyes, he watches Oliver struggle with the buttons at his own fly, and manages to lift his leaded arms to help. Oliver’s cock springs free, red and flushed and wet, and he thinks Oliver’s going to want him to return the favor. He’s certainly willing - that’s something he  _ had _ done with Edward, after all - but instead, Oliver wraps his hand around his cock and starts stroking it. 

And that, that Jared can help with too. He does, happily, Oliver looking at where his fingers are still disappearing inside Jared as Jared strokes him off. It takes barely anything before Oliver stiffens and spills over Jared’s stomach. With a groan, Oliver pulls his fingers out and collapses beside him on the bed, his breath still coming fast. 

Jared can’t help but turn toward Oliver - toward his lover, now - and take everything in. Oliver’s chest is flushed underneath the black hair and tan that must mean he works outside without his shirt. He’s sweating, just a little gleam, his eyes closed. Jared traces down, over Oliver’s stomach, to the widening trail of hair leading to the thick black thatch around his sated cock. Jared licks his lips, looking forward to repaying the favor whenever Oliver wants. 

Then his doctor’s eye catches on something, half-hidden beneath Oliver’s pants, and without thinking, he pushes them down to get a better look. Ignoring the sticky cum on his stomach, he examines the scarring over Oliver’s left thigh, even as Oliver stiffens above him. 

It’s thick, almost all scar tissue with little normal skin remaining, all over his quadricep. At some point, Oliver’s leg had been mangled, and Jared sucks in a breath, recognizing a surgeon’s work cutting into the muscle. “You nearly lost your leg,” he mumbles, his heart breaking for the pain Oliver must have gone through. 

“They almost cut it off, yeah, but the wound was too high so they left it and- and I managed to survive the infection somehow.” Oliver’s voice is quiet, almost dead in tone and Jared turns to look at him. 

“What did this?” 

“You know your answer, Doc. You’ve seen this type of thing on plenty of the men around here, I’m sure. A lot of us came west after the war.” 

Their civil war, Jared knows. He’s seen the aftermath of the carnage, but never something as arresting as Oliver’s wound. 

“It must pain you.” 

Oliver shrugs, looking away. “At the change of the season, and after a long day. I walk with a limp, then.” 

Sensing that Oliver doesn’t want to talk about it, he turns back to Oliver, crawling up his side and kissing him with all of the newfound passion that’s sprung between them. Oliver relaxes and sighs, his hand coming back to grip Jared’s head and deepen the kiss. 

The cum on his stomach is getting cold and messy, so Jared has to regretfully pull away and dab at it with a rag from beside the bed. Oliver hitches his pants up and buttons them again. “I’ll go get some water from the creek for you to warm and wash.” 

Jared stands to retrieve his pants. “You can’t be serious. I can go to the creek just as well as you can.” 

Oliver slants a glance in his direction, looking amused. “Mhmm.” 

From the look on Oliver's face, Jared's suddenly not so sure about the creek. But he pulls on his boots anyway, leaving his shirt off as they head away from the cabin. After a few moments of silence, Oliver's fingers suddenly seek his, and they thread them together as they walk to the creek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think when I write the full-length version of this, I'm actually going to be making Mac an amputee from the war. They had working prosthetics back then, although they obviously were not like the ones we have today. But it was a little too late to make him an amputee in this version of the story.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was fun. :D
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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